


Walk Through Fire

by RainySpringMorning



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Gen, Pyrophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainySpringMorning/pseuds/RainySpringMorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old memory awakens when the brewery explodes into flames around him.</p><p>Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed III and all related characters belongs to Ubisoft!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk Through Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pyrophobia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672109) by [totallyfeelingtheaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyfeelingtheaster/pseuds/totallyfeelingtheaster). 



“Take aim!”

A row of officers raise their muskets, brace them into the curves of their shoulders, and point at the barrels of gunpowder lined at the base of the massive mead kegs. Haytham’s eyes widen with the knowledge of what is to follow, frozen in place with the spreading wings of fear. Connor is already moving at the force of an invisible hand, grappling his father and hauling him to the ground, the echo of the command yet to come already shrieking in his ears.

_FIRE!_

The explosion is enormous, a deafening shock of noise. The world is black – whether shielded by his father’s cape blocking his sight or from the force of the blast, Connor isn’t sure. He sees inward instead, walls and walls of hungry flames, licking at the sky, feeding and growing like a living being – a presence with no face or form.

Haytham pushes up and away, breath coming fast, the sound of receding footsteps sounding at a rapid pace as he flees. Rolling onto his knees, Connor vaults upward, swinging around to see his surroundings.

Gold and red greets him like a gaping maw, arcing up through the blown roof, fingers reaching for the midnight blue sky. He is locked in place, the base of his spine clutched by a cold hand, a child trapped in a longhouse blazing and bursting with fresh sparks overtaking dying embers. He fails to hear his father call to him the first time in command, a second time in warning.

He can see his mother’s face, stroked with blood and cloaked in smoke. The flames are biting, threatening to grab him. One foot slides forward, the will to flee breaking through. But he has yet to find control, to find himself within the flames.

Closing his eyes, he imagines an eagle. He hears its piercing cry and binds to it, shaping its furling wings, the swoop of its body as it fans the flames higher and higher. The smoke curls and stains, seeping into his skin, the heat building like a furnace. He burrows deeper, flesh burning from bone, shoving aside the numbness and tearing back the smoke like curtains, following the eagle’s cry. At last, he finds it.

 _Ratonhnhaké:ton._ Her spirit – a ghost. Her voice – from memory. _Do not be afraid, my son_.

 _How can I not be afraid?_ Connor wonders fearfully, an ache sinking into his heart like jagged claws. _The flames…they took you from me. Now they will take me_ -

 _They will not take you._ Her voice is laughter, gentle music to his ears, a brush of chimes on the wind. _Believe that they will not burn you, and you will walk through them._

_How will they not burn me?_

_I made you a promise, Ratonhnhaké:ton._ Connor feels a brush along the back of his neck, smells warm sweetness the clouds of engulfing smoke. Her promise is the rain of the drought, the breeze in the summer. _All you have to do is listen…_

_“CONNOR!”_

Haytham’s shout shatters the illusion, a ragged demand tinged with impatience.

It is enough – the anchor he needs.

Smoke fills his mouth and embers fill his sight but his muscles unclamp; shoving off his fear, carrying himself forward and through the curling flames, the eagle’s wings offer their grace, soaring through the smoke and shedding off old memories.

He walks through fire, to freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> I knew I had a pyrophobic!Connor lurking somewhere up my sleeve. I thank totallyfeelingtheaster for finally shining a light on it *tips invisible hat*


End file.
